I was asked earlier today if I could craft a BMX haiku. So, here is my response.
Going to the “next level” only has value when YOU have defined success, when YOU know where you want to go. Otherwise, without goal/direction, your psyche knows the emptiness of your drive. At best, you’ll feel empty, that your work is meaningless.
Sitting amongst the oppressed
Their discomfort diminishing.
Perhaps my apparent illiteracy
Grants them boldness?
Shows today about priest rapists, about brutality in Egypt, North Korea, about myriad acts of horror all over the globe. I’m left to wonder if humanity can be redeemed? Can we stop this cycle of evil? I’m laden with doubt.
Yet, within me, a kernel of hope. I see the words of journalists attempting to bring attention, to garner global pressure. There are the activists, often risking their lives, both in responding to the human need as well as to work against the monstrosity. Then there’s the rising voice of public outrage, if for only a brief time. So much evil, so limited our ability to look. So easy to return our gaze to the pretty.
I, too, become worn by continual viewing of the worst humanity has to offer. Yet I hope, somehow, by continuing to care, the world might change, if ever so slightly. And perhaps, someday, humanity’s tendency to brutalize each other will finally be put to rest.
Years ago, I was quite facile with styli. I took meeting bits several times in my Palm, even with the cryptic survival script. As I evolved to Blackberry, then to iPhone, my utilization of styli vanished. Now, though, I see a renewed interest in these devices. There’s become quite the secondary market growing. I’ve found, especially with tools like Swype, styli really enable a significantly greater efficiency. And this is fun for me.
I have one by Zagg, which is good, but small. Then I just got a NEBO one, with more heft. That seems to really help my accuracy. There are so many more, though. We’ll see which, if any, rise to the top.
“Back in the day”, after a wave of nausea, or a fever, etc, you needed to loudly groan, whimper, or whatever you could muster for assistance. “Honey, please bring me a wet washcloth/towel/undertaker”. With cell phones, you can now text your wife/spouse/mom “please bury my corpse to the left of the roses but not over the septic tank” without expending much energy at all.